


Healing Wounds

by RenByHeart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Healing, Hurt Sam Winchester, Minor Character Death, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:20:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenByHeart/pseuds/RenByHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some wounds are to deep to heal. But that doesn't stop Lucifer and Sam Winchester from trying. Set after the season 8 finale, were Sam is trying to heal from his participation in the trials.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Wounds

When someone very close to us dies, there are feelings involved that can’t be described in our very limited vocabulary. Sure, we can use words like _hollow_ , and _lost_ , and _dark_ , and _numb_ , but that doesn’t really envelop all those feelings that are pressing against that space behind your ribs.

 

We also use other methods of expressing our heartbreak, such as dance or music; which in some respects can go deeper than words, but they, like our inability to form sentences to properly express our sadness, are shallow and don’t quite hit the mark.  

 

But, they are all we have.

 

In a world as unfair as it is old, all we are given is a few lousy ways to trick ourselves into thinking we are healing. In reality, we are not. We’re scarring over deep wounds that are torn into our very beings and these wounds no matter how much bandaging that we put on them, still bleed through. They still stay regardless of how much time passes. It still hurts and leaves us broken in ways that can not be mended.

 

We are shattered and glued back to together with a few pieces missing, but we are still proclaimed 'fine'. Like all it took was a few deep sounding words and soulful ballads to be enough to stitch up your soul. Enough to keep you from dreaming of memories and hoping for miracles that will come if you pray hard. Enough to keep you getting out of the bed in the morning and feeling motivated to do something other than sitting there and staring at walls. Enough for _them_ to have the audacity to proclaim you ‘fixed’ and ‘recovering’. Have they not endured the same as you? Have they lied and tricked themselves into thinking they are alright as well?   

 

Pain is constant. It never leaves. You’re always in it, but sometimes, like when you're hungry or need the bathroom, you forget for a little bit. That’s when you laugh until you cry, or when you spend the day with people that mean a lot to you. That’s when another temporary bandage is placed over that gaping wound, stemming that blood flow until you’re alone later.

 

Sam finds himself alone a lot these days, so the damage seems to drown out everything else. Leaves him immobile and dark in ways that he hadn’t felt since the night Jess died.

 

And you know what happens to wounds that are left to long unattended.

 

They get infected.

 

They boil and rage underneath your skin, until you feel like you have to claw at it to make it stop. It makes you want to run and never stop. It makes you vulnerable and easy to manipulate into doing things that you normally wouldn’t have done in good judgement.

 

For Sam, it let the devil in.

 

Not the literal one of course, but the loss of Dean made him lose a sense of self preservation that came with giving himself away.

 

No, the devil was within himself. Was in the way he let himself be taken in bathroom stalls and how he might have stepped accidentally on purpose into an oncoming attack. It was how he enjoyed the punishment he received, because on some level, he knew he deserved it. He deserved every punch or rape (though if he asked for it does it count as rape?) that was thrown his way, because no matter how hard he bled on the outside, the wound on his soul, on his very _being_ , would always bleed more.

 

And it never healed. Not even when Dean came back four months later, because by then, revenge had gripped its hooks into in the form of Ruby. She made sure the rough, jagged edges of his soul were forced wide apart, making it impossible to just patch it up. She was the poison that allowed it bleed and bleed; helping it to fuel his rage.

 

It wasn’t that it didn’t matter that Dean was back. It just mattered more that he had been taken away in the first place.

 

He couldn’t heal when there was the threat that his big brother might be taken away again. So he pushed on and on, allowing the infection to settle in more permanently, making a home in the broken edges of his heart.

 

This time when he let the devil in, it was more literal than a metaphor.

 

But, Sam found that the pieces of the devil were just as infected and broken as his own.

 

He had wanted to hate him, had tried so hard to, but as they fell into the blackness of a cage that the devil had been so desperate to escape, he found himself reaching out trying to heal the ragged wound.

 

Lucifer’s was much older and harsher than his own, but that didn’t stop him. Not even when Sam was tortured for hours, days, _years_ , because if he couldn’t heal himself, maybe he could heal someone else. Maybe he could be the glue that held this beautifully criminal being that has lost so much in his very long existence.  

 

Maybe he could be the thing that made it worth it.

 

But, then of course, he was drawn from hell and it was all sealed behind a wall that he wasn’t suppose to scratch at.

 

He couldn’t remember that there was a moment, towards the end of his time in hell, that the devil had realized what Sam had been doing. Had stopped stringing his organs onto fish wire and hooks to just look at him. Had peered into his soul, as Sam continued to pour the metaphorical peroxide over a wound that would likely never heal. He watched as Sam accepted every piece of harm made on him, because he believed that, that was what the fallen angel needed in order to relieve his hatred. His distrust. His bitter betrayal.

 

In that moment, as the devil stood too shocked to move, that Sam had finally proven that he could still be compassionate. Because once Lucifer realized what the youngest Winchester was willing to do, willing to go through for him, his face crumpled into a mix of horrified helplessness and gentle reverence.

 

So, when Sam was haunted by the hallucination of the devil, he had no idea that he could have figured out what was real and what wasn’t just based on the fact that the real Lucifer, after that moment in hell, was never malicious.

 

No, after that moment, the fallen angel had put Sam together again. Piecing together his broken soul, hoping to repair the damage that he had done.

 

But, Death had snatched his vessel’s soul away before he could fully heal the bleeding wounds. Sam had been taken away from him before he could return the favor. Dean had retrieved his brother before anything could be smoothed over. Battle scars that had been there before the stint in hell had been blown wide by the Devil’s rage so the soul that had been pulled out was still worse than it had been going in.

 

Then, after Sam traded his crazy with Castiel, the youngest Winchester undertook the trials in an attempt to feel like he done some good after all. Hoping that the broken parts of him were enough to fix and save every person that was worth so much more than him and all Lucifer could do was watch as this crazy, beautiful human tore himself apart.

 

All he wanted to do was get out and sooth those hurts like he hadn’t been able to in hell. Wanted to save this brilliant man even if he hadn’t felt like a true angel in eons.

 

Lucifer wanted to be the glue that was enough to hold Samuel Winchester together.

  
And he do anything to make to maks sure he had that chance.     


End file.
